


Out of a Suitcase

by spikesgirl58



Category: The Man From U.N.C.L.E. (TV)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-14
Updated: 2015-06-14
Packaged: 2018-04-04 09:56:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,299
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4133226
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/spikesgirl58/pseuds/spikesgirl58
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Napoleon and Illya are asked to retrieve a mysterious suitcase.  Little do they know that the suitcase is only the beginning.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Out of a Suitcase

**Author's Note:**

  * For [the_haunt](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=the_haunt).



> The story was inspired by the Willard Suitcase project. The site is: http://willardsuitcases.photoshelter.com/gallery-list. While this tale is fictional, the project and the photographer are real. Take five minutes and look at the cases, and read about the Willard Institute. It’s really something else.
> 
> My thanks to The-Haunt for permitting me to frolic with her bunny. I hope you like what it evolved into. Also my thanks to Sparky955 for, well, everything.

“You ready?” Napoleon stuck his head around the bathroom door frame. Even after twenty years of being together, first as partners, then as lovers, Napoleon never got tired of the sight of Illya, a towel dangling precarious around his hips, going through his morning routine. _Twenty years,_ Napoleon thought and sighed. If anyone had ever suggested he would have settled down for even a minute when he was still a green agent, Napoleon would have bet big money to the contrary. Now he couldn’t imagine his life without Illya at his side.

“Just about,” Illya mumbled around his toothbrush. He spit his mouthful of toothpaste into the sink. “I only have to pack.”

Napoleon looked back at their rumpled bed, presently covered with clothes and he chuckled. “Oh, is that all? Can I… ah… lend you a hand?” He reached out to grab Illya by the waist as the man walked past. It took Illya a moment to wriggle free.

“You do that and we might not leave at all. That would not garner us any good will.  Are you sure Mr. Waverly didn’t say anything…” Illya caught his mistake and took a breath. “It’s crazy. He’s been gone ten years and—“

“He’s still right here.” Napoleon tapped his chest and nodded. “I know what you mean and, no, Mr. Acosta was frustratingly sparse on details. He asked that we stop in before we head up and all would be revealed.”

“It gives this a slightly sinister edge. And why us? We’ve been out of the field for nearly a decade now. Surely there are younger agents that could handle this.”

”Either it’s something that needs a light hand or a very experienced agent to see it through.”

“Or both.”

“Or both. Napoleon moved into the living room and did a last minute check. When he was younger, he could be ready at a drop of the hat, prepared to race from one end of the globe to the other if need be. Those days were gone, yet it was surprising how quickly things came back to him

His suitcase was by the door and the car they’d procured for this assignment was standing by, all gassed up and ready to go. He checked his hair in the hall mirror. Since their trip was only going to take a couple of days, there was no need to worry about perishables. _Not like the old days,_ he thought. There had been a few occasions when he was fairly certain a new life form had been created in the food left in a crisper drawer or behind a bottle of putrid milk.

“A penny for your thoughts.”

Napoleon looked over his shoulder and frowned. Illya was standing there, suitcase in hand, ready to go. “How did you…?” Then he looked past Illya and noticed that none of the clothes had moved from the bed.

“I packed most of my stuff last night while you were watching the news. I just needed to put my shaving kit in.” He reached past Napoleon and opened the door. “If you have everything you need, shall we?”

QQQQQ

They walked through the corridors. They didn’t change with time, but the people hurrying by did.

“When did everyone get so young?” Napoleon murmured as a bevy of women passed him. He smiled politely at them and they totally ignored him.

“You mean when did we get so old, don’t you?”

“Speak for yourself. I’m still 32 years old.”

“Your shoes, perhaps.” Illya chuckled as they approached the office of Section One, Number One. For a time, it had thought Napoleon would ascend to that position, but when push came to shove, Napoleon declined, a decision he never regretted.

They entered and started towards the table, but Mr. Acosta raised a hand and gestured instead to the small entertaining area instead.

“Coffee, gentlemen?” He stifled a yawn. “It's been a long night.”

“No, thank you, sir.” Napoleon declined for both of them and sat. Mr. Acosta waited for Illya to follow suit before speaking.

“This is a strange world we live in and both of you gentlemen would agree with me that there are times when late is better than never at all.”

“I would.” Napoleon brushed a wrinkle from his trousers. Unlike many, he still wore a suit to work.

“As would I.” Illya sat forward, his elbows resting on his knees. “Is this about a past assignment?”

“Partially, yes, or so it would seem.” Mr. Acosta sat across from them and set a folder down upon the coffee table between his chair and theirs. “We received this a few days ago. Check out the postmark.”

“Postmark?” Illya picked up the envelope. “June 1965?”

“It was apparently lost in a piece of equipment and when they were dismantling it, it was discovered.” He sipped his coffee. “Please read the letter.”

_Dear Mr. Waverly:_

_It has come to our attention that we are in possession of property belonging to your organization. Sadly, your agent stumbled into our hospital and perished before he could do much more than give us your name. We found this address in the young man’s clothes and hope that it will somehow reach you. We will maintain possession of the suitcase and its contents until we hear from you. Please send your two best agents to pick it up._

_Sincerely_

“This is very odd,” Illya said, taking the letter. “The signature is nearly obliterated.” He turned it over and then returned it to Mr. Acosta.

“They tell me it was oil from the equipment. The labs tried to enhance it and got Raymond Reynold out of it.”

“But why are you sending us, sir?”

“He wants our two top agents.”

“That’s nice to think, but I suspect that there are more capable men or women than us now.”

“Do not mistake youth for experience, Mr. Solo. We owe it to that lost agent and his family.   We lost my uncle to THRUSH around that time and it killed my mother not knowing what happened to him.” He paused. “I certainly can’t force you to take this on, but I, for one, would appreciate any closure you might bring to his family.”

Napoleon slapped his hands together and stood. “I’m thinking it’s a lovely day for a drive. Wouldn’t you agree, Mr. Kuryakin?”

“That I would, Napoleon.”

 

 

 

 

Illya took his usual place behind the wheel and expertly guided the car along the crowded New York streets. Gradually, the city fell away and the country laid claim to the view. Napoleon lazily watched the landscape slip by, his mind grappling with their assignment.

“What are you thinking about?” Illya’s eyes were hidden behind sunglasses, but Napoleon knew they were smiling.

“Am I that obvious?”

“To me, yes.” Illya’s mouth twisted into a smile.

“I was just wondering if we really have any say in our destiny or if it’s predetermined at our birth.”

“That’s a pretty heady thought for this early in the morning.”

“I blame you, of course.”

“I can accept that. How about our mission? Any thoughts on that? Where are we headed again?”

“Williams Psychiatric Center in Saranac.”

“That sounds promising.

“Just as long as they let us leave at the end of the day, I’ll be happy.”

 

QQQQ

Illya slowed as they drove up in front of a large red brick building. It had seen better days, but there still seemed to be a sense of pride and dignity to the structure.

“Do you know anything about this place, Illya?”

“Surprisingly enough, no.” He parked and climbed stiffly from the vehicle. “The grounds are beautiful.”

“Thank you.”

Both the UNCLE agents turned and a white-coated man held up a hand in welcome. “You are Mr. Reynold.”

“I’m Dr. Reynold, yes.” He offered them both slightly faded business cards. “You are the men from the UNCLE.”

“We are. Napoleon Solo and this is my partner, Illya Kuryakin.” They shook hands and the doctor gestured forward.

“Welcome! Welcome! I can’t tell you how relieved it will be to get this out of here.”

“Get what out of where?”

The doctor pulled open a large door and led the way down a long hall. The bitter bite of disinfectant tinged the air and the smell pulled Napoleon back to his childhood and of being ushered into a room that held a similar odor. Telling him to be a good boy, his parents left him. Napoleon panicked until a nice nurse came along and explained to him that his grandfather was very ill and Napoleon was too young to visit. She gave him a piece of chewing gum and a book. He still had that book.

“Napoleon?” He blinked and looked around. Illya and the doctor were halfway down the hall, about to enter a room.

“Sorry, wool gathering.” He hurried to catch up and then stopped. “What on earth…? In front of him was a room filled with suitcases. “Is someone going someplace?”

“Just the opposite, Mr. Solo. We have been in operation since the 1900’s, although most of the buildings were constructed in the 1890’s. Many people would pack their essentials, come here and sadly never leave. Some were physically ill, while other were mentally affected, but all of them were welcomed. For many, this was the only home where they would ever know love and acceptance. There is even a cemetery on the ground for those who passed away with no family or friends to take them away.”

“That’s so sad.” Napoleon spoke, surprising himself. He’d meant to leave that unsaid.

“In some cases, it was sad, but for many, this represented a place of safety and security. Unlike many of the asylums of the day, our patients were treated with dignity and respect.”

“Then why all the suitcases?”

“As I said, many came and never left. These suitcases were recently discovered in the attic. Some have been there for several decades, set aside when their owners perished. A photographer suggested it might be interesting to document them and their belongings. We had just started sort through them, when we found it and thought it would be… good to return… _it_ to its rightful home before he started.”

“It?”

Reynold visibly shuddered. “Yes, that’s how we referred to it now.” He picked up the receiver from a wall phone and punched in a number. “Sammy, could you report to the suitcase room, please? Thank you.”

“Did you not try to return the suitcases to their rightful owners?” Illya squatted to examine a battered brown case, running his hand over the smooth surface with an air of sadness. “And how did you know that this one particular case contained something we’d be interested in?

“It is simply not possible to identify many of them. Our older records are not always as complete as they could have been and for several, there simply wasn’t anyone to return the belongings to. As for _it_ , well, I believe it was what you would call self-explanatory.”

“You wanted to see me, sir?”

The trio looked at the doorway and for just a moment, Napoleon forgot how to breathe. The young man standing there was the image of Illya twenty years ago, slender, with blond hair just on this side of long and eyes that seemed to look right through you. He smiled benignly at them. No, he smiled at Napoleon and Napoleon was transfixed.

“Sammy, could you take Mr. Solo to Exam Room Three, please.”

The smile evaporated and Napoleon found his breath. He watched a myriad of emotions play across the younger man’s face. Napoleon wondered how long had it been since he’d let his emotions be so visibly on display?

“But, sir… the… the c-c-case, sir,” Sammy stuttered.

“He’s here for it, Sammy.” Dr. Reynold moved to Sammy’s side and patted his shoulder. “It’s going to its rightful owner and we will be free.”

“I hope so, sir.” Sammy recovered his composure and turned. “If you would like to follow me, Mr. Solo.”

Napoleon glanced over at Illya, surprised by the less-than-pleased look in his partner’s blue eyes. He could tell Illya wasn’t happy about them being separated. Napoleon touched his jacket pocket that held his communicator. “I’ll be on Channel F.”

“I’ll be happy to share some of our other findings with Mr. Kuryakin while we await your return.” Dr. Reynold interrupted. “If you’re interested.” Illya nodded.

“Yes, I’d like that.”

“I’ll be right back.” A little voice tickled the back of Napoleon’s consciousness, whispering about traps and hidden dangers. Still, Illya was armed and he knew how to handle himself.

QQQQ

“So, Sammy, have you worked here long?” Napoleon felt driven to say something, anything, as he trailed behind the young man.

“My mother used to work for the Institute and she would bring me along as a child. It just sort of evolved from there.” Sammy didn’t turn to address him. “Here we are.” The door had a tiny card identifying it and Sammy unlocked it before stepping aside. “I’ll be right outside. If you need something, let me know.”

Napoleon watched him move away to the opposite side of the hall and he looked into the room. Part of him half expected a hand to push him in and the door to slam shut behind him, but nothing happened. He flicked on a light switch and a dim bulb sputtered to life.

The only thing in the room was an old examination table and a suitcase sitting in the middle of it. From the accumulated dust and cobwebs, it was obvious that the room was otherwise abandoned. A trickle of sweat wandered down Napoleon’s temple as the heat from the room blasted against his face.

“It’s very humid today, isn’t it?” He took out his handkerchief and wiped his face and then his hands. Tucking it away, he loosened his tie and opened the top button of shirt. The air from this room was nothing short of a blast furnace and he felt a little faint because of it. “I take it this room isn’t used for anything.”

“No, sir. This was one of the more… unfortunate places at the facility. They used to do electroshock. Of course, they didn’t know. It was supposed to help, but it didn’t. When somebody died, they locked it and moved out of this wing for the most part and into another area.” Sammy stayed, facing the opposite direction as if just to look at the room was too horrible to even bear. “We just use it for storage now and not even that most of the time.”

“Could I have the key for this?” For some reason, Napoleon needed to know he could get out if he had to.

“I suppose so. Don’t know which one it is, but you can take this one. It opens everything around here.” Sammy fingered through the enormous key ring and then held it out. “I’ll let you take the key off the ring. I’m not very good at it.”

Napoleon frowned at how rusted some of the keys were, but he wiggled the one he wanted off and returned the ring. “I’ll be right back.” Napoleon stepped quickly into the room, grabbed the suitcase and then was out. Even with that, he felt as if he’d been on a ten-mile hike across the desert. The air in the hall was almost frigid in comparison.   He ran a hand through his hair and mopped his face again with his handkerchief. Possibly he was coming down with something.  “Okay.”

“You have looked inside?” Sammy seemed surprised.

Napoleon felt as if all the strength was being sapped from his body. “No, not yet. I’ll just take the case with me and examine the contents later.”

“Thank you! We don’t need it here.” There was a brilliant smile in return. “I’ll take you back to your friend now.”

“Thanks.” Napoleon turned and felt a sudden dizziness overcome him. “Sammy!” he called out and the man was there, his arms around him, guiding him to the floor.

“Mr. Solo, are you okay?” Sammy started unbuttoning Napoleon’s shirt. “You are soaked with sweat. What should I do?”

“Illya. I need…”

“I’m here.” Illya’s voice was heaven sent as far as Napoleon was concerned. “I was monitoring your conversation through the communicator and thought you sounded odd.”

“He… he fainted--” Sammy started.

“Go get Dr. Reynold. NOW!” Illya snapped. The young man nodded, jumped to his feet and hurried away.

“Get me out of here, Illya.” Napoleon was surprised at the sound of his voice. It wasn’t his. “I can’t breathe because of the heat.”

Illya helped Napoleon to his feet and wrapped an arm around Napoleon’s waist. Only then did he hesitate. “Napoleon, what is wrong? You are drenched with sweat.”

“I feel like I have heat stroke. That room over there.” He waved his hand in the direction of Exam Room Three. “It’s was like walking into a blast furnace.”

“What room, Napoleon?”

The confusion in Illya’s voice cleared Napoleon’s head faster than a splash of cold water. Somehow, he got his feet under him, swaying like a newborn colt, and looked. He pointed to a solid wall. “There was a door to a room right there. I must be more affected than I thought.”

“Let’s get you outside.”

“Don’t forget the suitcase.” At least that was right where he’d left it. One handed, Illya grabbed it and continued to help Napoleon along. After what felt like an hour, Napoleon paused. He long since disengaged from Illya’s support. “Are you sure we are headed in the right direction?

“I am, but I’m not. Somehow… this all seems strange. I supposed I could have gotten turned around, but I don’t usually have that problem. How are you feeling?”  

“Better, cooler. I wonder where Dr. Reynold and Sammy are.”

“Looking for us, no doubt. Those suitcases were something else, Napoleon. It was a sad statement of summing up a life in just a few articles. It makes you think about what you would pack in your suitcase if you knew you were never coming back.”

“As long as you were with me, it could be empty for all I care.” Napoleon took a deep breath. “I felt like a goner back there, then I heard your voice and everything was okay. I supposed that sounds soppy.”

“I think it sounds perfect.” Illya shifted the suitcase from one hand to the other. “I wonder what’s in this thing. It weighs a ton.”

“I’m more interested in where we are.” Ah, finally.”

They came out into the lobby, but it was not the tidy area that they had entered through. This one was filled with trash and some of the windows were broken. Plants and vines had found their way in as had the local teens. The walls were covered with graffiti.

“Illya?”

“No idea.” They headed for the door, but it was apparently locked. “Now what?”

“I wonder.” Napoleon reached into his pocket and pulled out the rusted key. He held it up for Illya to see and then he slipped it into the hole. With a whine, the mechanism protested, but worked and the door opened to reveal a very surprised sheriff.

“What are you doing here?” Napoleon asked.

“I might ask you the same thing.”

“We were just meeting with Dr. Reynold.” Illya shifted the suitcase from one hand to the other.

“Sure you have. Tell you what. How about you both raise your hands?”

“Excuse me?” Napoleon reached into his jacket pocket and froze as the sheriff’s gun came up and aimed at him.

“Nice and slow, Mister.”

With exaggerated care, Napoleon removed his ID and held it up for the sheriff to inspect. “We were called here to meet Dr. Reynold.”

“Actually a Dr. Raymond Reynold. Not only that, but how would you explain this?” Illya dug into his pants pocket and pulled out Reynold’s business card.   “We were given that just a short time ago.”

“Then someone was playing you both for fools.” The sheriff lowered his weapon. “Dr. Reynold died years ago. His son, Raymond Reynold Jr. called me and said he saw a car parked out here. He’s funny about people poking around the place. Wanted to me arrest whoever was out here.”

“What?” Napoleon exchanged a confused look with his partner. “How did he die?”

“He died trying to save one of the inmates. The man had stumbled in from the night and told this wild tale of being chased by birds. They were treating him and a fire broke out. Dr. Reynold die trying to save the man. It was later determined that it was set by arsonists, but no one was ever caught. At that point, the family locked the place down.”

“Do you happen to remember his name?”

“Yes, Sammy, something. The doctor tried to get into the room, but was overcome by the heat. They found both of them just outside of Exam Room—“

“Three,” Napoleon finished.

The sheriff pushed his hat back and nodded. “Yes. How did you even get in? The place is locked up tight.”

Napoleon held up a key.  “Where there’s a will…” He paused, mid-sentence, smiling apologetically at the sound of an object, the suitcase, being thrown into the trunk of the car.

The sheriff cocked one of his bushy brows. "Testy, isn't he?" Napoleon glanced over in time to see Illya slam the trunk shut and stalk to the driver's side door. ”You have no idea.”   The Russian then got in and started the car, gunning the engine loudly to let everyone within a half-mile radius — Napoleon included — know that he was quite ready to leave the scene. "It's been a long week," he added.

Both the sheriff's brows quirked this time. "Yeah, I hate Mondays, too."

 _And you don’t have to live with him._ Napoleon thought as he climbed into the car. Illya barely let him close the door before slamming the car into drive. Napoleon slipped on his seat belt, an action not lost on his partner.

For several minutes, he let Illya just drive, tires squealing, car fishtailing around corners. Napoleon just closed his eyes and held on. Finally he lifted his head from the seat back. “Illya?”

“Yes.”

“That all happened, didn’t it?”

“I don’t like being set up, Napoleon.”

“I can understand that, but why are you mad at me?”

“I’m not mad at you, per say. I’m mad at the… incident. And that story. I hate it when hick sheriffs play us for fools. You and I both know who we saw and what happened. The whole town is probably in on it. I wanted to make sure we got that suitcase out of there before they tried to hit us with a burglary charge.”

“Do you believe what he was saying about Dr. Reynold and Sammy? I don’t understand it.”

“I don’t believe a lot of things with or without understanding them. What was going on, Napoleon? You seemed transfixed with Sammy.”

“He was hard not to, Illya. He was your double.”

Illya darted an open-mouth look of disbelief at him. “No, he wasn’t.”

“Illya, he was a spitting image of you when you first arrived at UNCLE.”

“Napoleon, he was Hispanic with dark hair and dark skin.”

“I swear, Illya.”

“I’ve been doing a lot of that as well.” The car slowed as they approached an intersection and Illya pulled it off to the shoulder and shut off the engine. “Since we don’t seem to have a tail, we should take a look inside that suitcase.”

Napoleon undid his seat belt. “I’ll go. Let me have the trunk key and keep the engine going, in case we need to make a fast getaway.”

“Are you okay?”

“Still feeling a little confused and that’s all I’ll admit to. Some fresh air might help.”

He walked to the back of the car and popped the trunk. The old suitcase looked so scruffy beside theirs. It took him a minute to get the latches to work, but eventually they gave up and he opened it up.

He couldn’t believe what he was seeing. This was… priceless and had it fallen into the wrong hands, potentially damaging. No wonder they were in a hurry to be rid of it.

Napoleon returned to the passenger seat and sat down with a sigh.

“So, what was in the suitcase?” Illya rolled the car back onto the road and took off with a spray of gravel.

Napoleon waited to try and find the right words. Finally he muttered, “A hand book.”

“How could you tell that? You were gone barely a few seconds.”

“There was a book and a hand, I made the leap.”

“A hand?” Illya looked at him sharply. “A real hand?”

“Just seeing if you were listening to me.”

“Not funny, Napoleon. I could have driven off the road.”

“It is an original UNCLE handbook. The only time I saw another like it was in Waverly’s office years ago. It contains everything that makes us UNCLE. If THRUSH had gotten their hands on it… well, it could have been bad.”

“Do you think Mr. Acosta knew?”

“I think he had a feeling. There was a name tag on the bag – S Acosta.”

“Sammy?”

“I don’t know. All I do know is that someone here wanted us to have it before anyone else got it.”

“Remember what Dr. Reynold said to Sammy. Once we took possession, they would be free. I wonder… all this time they’ve been waiting for us.”

“I don’t wonder at all, now I know for a fact. God is on our side. Let’s go find a hotel for the night.”

 

  
  


  
  


 

 

 

 

 

 

 


End file.
